Israel-Gaza War 5784: Acharei Mot – Admitting Error, Rejecting Molech

This week’s Torah portion, Acharei Mot, describes the priestly rituals on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. Among the sacrifices brought that day by both the High Priest and the children of Israel were hattat offerings, from a root word meaning “to aim and miss.” They were sacrifices made to atone for mistakes.

What is noteworthy about this Torah portion is the message that, like the common people, the religious leader also had to acknowledge mistakes. Everyone was expected to take responsibility for their failings—but leaders first, leading by example.

And the text also tells us something strange: that the blood of the hattat offering also brought atonement for mipishehem l’chol-hatotam, “for their rebellious sins among all their mistakes.” (Leviticus 16:16) Evidently, even our deliberate infractions are a kind of mistake, for if we truly could see how much damage and hurt they cause, we would refrain from doing them.

This Torah portion teaches us that acknowledging and atoning for mistakes is no less important than for deliberate sins. But shouldn’t we be cut some slack for our errors, committed without malice? Yet if I spill coffee on your best suit by accident, as opposed to throwing it on you, your suit is still ruined, and I would be expected to pay for cleaning it.

Some leaders in Israel today understand this concept. Maj. Gen. Aharon Haliva recently announced he was stepping down over his role in the failures that led to October 7th. “The Military Intelligence Directorate, under my command, failed to warn of the terror attack carried out by Hamas,” he announced. “We failed in our most important mission, and as the head of the Military Intelligence Directorate, I bear full responsibility for the failure.”

Of course, Haliva did not deliberately ignore signs of the impending attack. He and other Israeli intelligence experts mistakenly thought that Hamas did not have the capability to mount a serious incursion, despite the signs reported to them by military observers near the border. But a leader, even more than “ordinary” people, must take responsibility for his or her mistakes and make a sacrifice. As Harry Truman famously said, “The buck stops here.” As well as Haliva, the head of the Shin Bet and the IDF have acknowledged that they bear responsibility for the debacle of October 7th. Other Israeli leaders should do the same.

How different has been the response of the Hamas leaders. Far from admitting to egregious sins or even a tactical mistake in bringing devastation on their own people, they arrogantly say that not only do they not regret the attack, they would do it again. Hamas leader Khalil al-Haya recently reiterated this, while denying that Hamas targeted civilians. No wrongdoing or mistakes here!

Not surprisingly, their attitude is shared by those they lead. An interrogator with Israel’s Unit of International Crime Investigations said that the captured Hamas terrorists he questioned felt no remorse for the crimes they committed on October 7th.

Acharei Mot goes on to warn the people against committing the sinful practices of not only the land they have just left, Egypt, but the land they are going to. Among other things, they are commanded not to sacrifice their children to Molech, a Canaanite god. (Exodus 18:21)

Both Hamas in Gaza and the Palestinian Authority of the West Bank teach their children from a young age that it is praiseworthy to martyr themselves in the process of killing Jews and taking back the land of Israel. Like the ancient Canaanites they claim to be descended from, they sacrifice their children and in doing so, profane the name of G-d.

As former Prime Minister of Israel Golda Meir said, “We will only have peace with the Arabs when they love their children more than they hate us.”

When all of Israel’s leadership owns their errors and apologizes, stepping down for new and better leaders, that will be one (but only one) necessary step in the country healing from the wounds of October 7th.

And when the Palestinian leadership takes ownership of and responsibility for their willful sins, when they stop raising their children to kill both themselves and others, there will be a chance for the two peoples to live side by side in peace.

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Metzorah – We Could All Use a Good Soaking

Metzorah describes the purification procedures for people, clothing, and houses with an affliction called tzara’at. While tzara’at has sometimes been translated as leprosy, this affliction was something else. It appeared on the skin of a person or the surface of a garment or wall. The person or object was quarantined until the condition cleared.

How can a wall or garment have an affliction? How can this affliction render someone—or something—impure? And why this particular skin condition, but not others? As a teenager, I would happily have undergone a week in quarantine if it would have rid me of acne.

But this Torah portion isn’t about dermatology. It’s about the harm caused by gossip. Traditional Jewish understanding is that tzara’at was the consequence of lashon hara, literally “evil tongue”: malicious gossip and slander. According to our sages, metzorah, the word for the afflicted person afflicted, was a contraction for motzi shem ra, meaning “bringing out a bad name.”

Later in the Torah, we will read that Miriam was afflicted with tzara’at for speaking ill of Moses. Malicious gossip and slander, the rabbis believed, caused tzara’at, and it afflicted first the dwelling place, then the clothing, and finally the skin of the slanderer. Some rabbis today say that tzara’at is a physical manifestation of a spiritual illness, hatred. The period of quarantine was not to protect others—for the affliction was not contagious—but so that the metzorah could reflect on and mend his or her ways. And purification was needed to return the person to a state where hateful speech did not contaminate the community.

Before October 7th, hateful speech had become a regular feature in Israel. Societal divisions between religious and secular, left and right, came to a head with a government proposal for judicial reform. People yelled at strangers on the street, based on their appearance and assumed lifestyle or beliefs. Politicians on opposite sides of the question badmouthed and insulted each other. This division caused Israel’s enemies to perceive weakness and attack.

And after October 7th? Before Israel had even cleared the terrorists from within its borders, let alone entered Gaza, there was an outburst of slander and libel such as the world has not seen since Goebbels’ Jew-hating propaganda. Israel has been accused of stealing organs from Palestinians killed in Gaza; purposely starving Gazans; and committing war crimes by deliberately targeting civilians, particularly children, but also journalists and NGO workers. Claims of ethnic cleansing of, and genocide against, Gazans are common. These accusations have come not only from radicals and propagandists in the Arab and Muslim world, but from “progressives” in Western democracies as well. And accusations are frequently accompanied by acts of pure, unreasoning hatred: spitting on Jews, physically assaulting them, ripping down posters of Israeli hostages held in Gaza.

Indeed, respected news organizations have spread libels against Israel, claiming it bombed a hospital, attacked medical personnel and Arabic speakers, and summarily executed civilians.

This barrage of accusations is having its desired effect, as allies like France and America demand that Israel not invade Rafah or threaten to cut off needed arms. Unfortunately, we cannot quarantine the slanderers. Nor can we nullify the effect of their words. Although many eloquently argue Israel’s case, the damage has been done.

Our tradition tells the story of a man who gossips about another and is told by a rabbi to cut open a pillow and let the feathers scatter. Ordered to retrieve every feather, he protests it is impossible. So, too, with hateful speech, particularly in the internet age. Once people have heard lies, insults, and distortions, they cannot be unheard. In particular, libels against Jews—and now, against Israel, the Jewish nation—historically have resulted in pogroms, expulsions, and the Shoah. Since October 7th the number of antisemitic incidents has skyrocketed worldwide.

Eruptions on walls and skin have been replaced by eruptions of war and screaming mobs. An affliction of skin or garment is starting to sound like too mild a consequence for the damage caused by hateful speech.

Years ago, a company that makes cleaning products ran an ad in which a beautician had a customer soak her hands in a mysterious liquid. The customer was shocked to discover that the skin care product was ordinary dish detergent.

Where is the “detergent” that will heal the spiritual tzara’at of hatred, whether from antisemites and Israel-haters or from fellow Jews? We could all use a good soaking right about now. Our world cries out for purification. May it come soon, speedily, in our day.

POSTCRIPT:

With Pesach around the corner, I wish all who observe it chag Pesach kasher v’sameach, a happy and kosher Passover. In the middle of war and hatred, let us recall our deliverance from slavery. May all Israel be redeemed, and may our hostages especially be redeemed.

V’hi she-am’da la-avoteinu v’lanu.
Shelo echad bilvad, amad aleinu l’chaloteinu,
Ela sheb’chol dor vador, om’dim aleinu l’chaloteinu,
V’Ha-Kadosh Baruch Hu matzileinu mi-yadam.

And it is this that has stood by our ancestors and for us.
For not only one has risen up against us to destroy us,
But in every generation they rise up to destroy us,
But the Holy One, blessed be He, delivers us from their hands.

LET MY PEOPLE GO!

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Tazria – Restoring Order and Atoning

Tazria describes the purification procedures for a woman after childbirth. She must undergo a period of quarantine, and then bring sacrificial offerings once she is pure.

This seems unfair to us moderns. Why is a woman seemingly denigrated by being designated impure after giving birth?

Last week in Shemini, we saw how important order was, both in G-d’s creation of the world, finite man’s dwelling place in an infinite cosmos, and man’s creation of the mishkan, a finite dwelling place for an infinite G-d . While G-d can exist in all space/time without differentiations, humans need orderly time and space.

Part of creation was making order from primeval chaos. Light was separated from darkness, waters above from waters below, land from sea, earth from heavens. The first order of creation was separating opposite or unlike things from each other.

In women’s wombs two opposing conditions, life and death, meet. Women who have had the misfortune to miscarry or experience a stillbirth sharply experience this incongruity, particularly if we have also been blessed with living children.

The concept of purity has come have connotations of moral judgement. But there is another concept of purity in the natural world. Pure gold does not contain other elements. If it contains traces of zinc or copper, the gold is not defective or bad; it is just not totally and only gold. In the female cycle, life and death, two opposing conditions, intermix. Sloughed-off endometrial lining, meant to provide a safe and nutrient-rich environment for the growing fetus, occurs with both miscarriage and childbirth, testifying equally to death or life.

In addition, childbirth can endanger the life of the mother. Bringing new life into the world risks ending another life. Life and death come close to each other, even if they do not touch. Like gold with traces of other elements, the postpartum woman is considered to have trace elements of death. She is deemed impure, with no implication of being defective. (Notably, purification is also required for those who have contact with dead bodies.) Purification restores the separation required for order.

For Israelis, order was replaced by chaos and life contaminated by death on October 7th. Mass rape, murder, and kidnappings paired with destruction of cars, homes, police stations, and military bases upended the orderly world Israelis had known. Quiet agricultural kibbutzim became charnel houses. A festival of joyful music and dance became a killing field. Bomb shelters meant to save life became death traps. The easy connection to loved ones taken for granted was destroyed as people were ripped from their families. The life-affirming joy of dancing to trance music, Simchat Torah, Shabbat, and family was contaminated by torture, rape, murder, and kidnapping. The sense of an ordered and predictable world was shattered.

Torture and rape inflicted maximum physical and psychic chaos. Victims could not control their own bodies nor protect themselves.

The hostages taken by Hamas also lost any vestige of control, existing entirely at the mercy and whim of their captors. Those who were freed have been carefully protected from news media and their interactions limited to medical personnel and close family and friends until such time as they felt able to expand their circle and tell their stories: a kind of quarantine meant to restore psychic order.

Another psychic disruption is survivor guilt for those who lived when others died, or were released while others still languish in captivity. Since these events, Israelis have told their stories, undergone therapy, and used other means to purify themselves of the PTSD induced by the intrusion of death into life and chaos into order.

But why did the postpartum woman bring sacrificial offerings, and how can we relate that to these events?

Torah commentator Ibn Ezra said that the sacrifices atoned for resentful thoughts or words against husband or G-d during the pain of childbirth. While these feelings are unfair, they are natural.

Survivors and hostages will have to deal with anger: children at their parents for not protecting them, or for dying and leaving them; adults at their spouses for the same. Family members may feel anger at their loved ones, as their trauma persists and recovery stretches on for months or even years. Psychologists working with these families will need to provide ways to deal with resentment and guilt, just as sacrifices did in Temple times.

And Israelis are justifiably furious with their government for not preventing October 7th. A senior Israeli intelligence officer, Brig. Gen. Amit Saar, has announced he will resign over the intelligence failures that led to the onslaught. And many Israelis blame their government for not freeing all the hostages, or not freeing them earlier; some have died or been murdered in captivity. There will be elections, and currently serving politicians will be ousted. Careers and reputations will be sacrificed.

Finally, those who perpetrated October 7th are being hunted down and captured or killed. There has been talk of Nuremberg-style trials of those living.

Atonement on the part of those to blame will be had, whether voluntarily or involuntarily. And atonement there must be, for without justice there is no sense of restored order.

Israel-Gaza War: Metzorah – We Could All Use a Good Soaking

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Shemini – The Fire Next Time

This week’s Torah portion, Shemini, describes the death of two of Aaron’s sons. Moses has told them to offer sacrifices of atonement for themselves and the people, obeying “the word that Hashem has commanded you do, and revealed to you will be the glory of Hashem” (Exodus 9:6). They perform the sacrifices and then, vatetzei esh milifnei Adonai vatochal, “A fire went forth from before Hashem and consumed” the offerings on the altar. (Exodus 9:24)

And two verses later, the line vatetzei esh milifnei Adonai vatochal is repeated. Except this time, rather than the offerings, it is Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, who are consumed. (Exodus 10:2)

What happened in between these two verses?

Exodus 10:1 tells us that Nadav and Avihu put a burning incense offering on the pans designated for such and brought “an alien fire that He [Hashem] had not commanded.”

In the first instance, Hashem’s command is obeyed. The fire that consumes the specified sacrifices, offered following G-d’s earlier instructions exactly, reveals the glory of Hashem.

But in the second instance, Nadav and Avihu take it upon themselves to change G-d’s command. The incense offering is rejected, and the offerors perish.

Commentators suggest various interpretations. G-d punished Aaron’s sons for disobedience. Or they were punished for thinking they could improve on what Hashem commanded.

Or, perhaps interactions with an infinitely powerful G-d are hazardous and man can approach him only in certain ways. Perhaps, just as dealing with fire, electricity, or nuclear energy is potentially dangerous and can even be fatal, so dealing with this infinite energy source must be done with caution.

The Torah’s first book, Genesis, starts with chaos. During the six days of creation, G-d brings order to chaos, separating light from darkness, upper from lower waters, and earth from the heavens. He creates an orderly, predictable world that enables humanity to not just survive, but thrive.

In building the mishkan, roles were reversed. Humans were asked to create a finite space to contain an infinite power. To do so successfully, and to connect with that power, order was required. Electric and nuclear power plants require detailed instructions that must be followed exactly. If they are, people reap the rewards of clean energy without which many of the civilized comforts we take for granted are not possible. But failing to follow instructions can result in blackouts, meltdowns, and destruction. Perhaps bringing strange fire was a systems failure, to quote Everett Fox in his The Five Books of Moses.

The months before October 7th saw systems failure in Israel. Major changes to the judiciary were proposed without debate and consensus. Opposing sides took to the streets in massive demonstrations. Some Israelis threatened to pull their businesses out of the country. Others refused to show up for reserve military training. An atmosphere of hatred for the other side prevailed. Warnings from low-level observers about Hamas’ preparations for invasion were dismissed.

Today, even during the war, we are seeing a reprise, as secular and ultra-Orthodox clash over the issue of service (or lack thereof) in the military. Recently the Sephardic Chief Rabbi threatened that if a draft were imposed on the ultra-Orthodox, they would leave the country.

Some Israelis demand any deal to free the hostages, even releasing thousands of Palestinian prisoners with blood on their hands. Others oppose a deal and try to block humanitarian aid meant for Gaza. One member of the war cabinet traveled unauthorized to speak to foreign governments; the prime minister ordered Israel’s overseas embassies not to assist him. And even allies, seeing Israel’s division, have stepped in to tell them how to fight this war.

Now, along with a prominent American senator, some Israelis are calling for a new government—even in the midst of an existential war. If Israel does not overcome differences and reach compromises even on difficult issues, it risks systems failure. Israel’s political paralysis and social disunity before October 7th emboldened its enemies to attack, thinking Israel weak. Now, thinking the same, they reject truce proposals and demand the moon, believing that if they hold out long enough, they can survive to fight another day.

But even if the war ended tomorrow, Israel would still face the risks of a divided society, with many of its members hating others. Our sages tell us that baseless hatred, sinat chinam, caused the fall of Jerusalem to the Romans, the destruction of the Second Temple, and the dispersal of the Jews to other lands that began our long exile. The return of Jews to our land in a sovereign nation is a miracle without precedent in the history of peoples. We cannot afford another exile. We cannot afford systems failure for our country.

Some say a return to Torah law is needed. Others call for a constitution. Whatever the solution, we must find it, and soon. Our last polity went up in flames, with disastrous results. October 7th was a warning shot fired across the bow. The fire next time may be even worse.

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Tazria – Restoring Order and Atoning

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Tzav – The Fire Is Still Burning

Last week’s Torah portion, Vayikra, addressed the sacrifices brought by the people. This week’s portion, Tzav, addresses the role the priests played in making these sacrifices. Yet lay people did more than bring offerings. Both the historian Josephus and the Talmud tell us that during the time of the second Temple, there was a designated day when everyone brought wood for the altar so that all could participate in ensuring that the esh tamid, the perpetual fire, would have sufficient fuel. Rav Abraham Isaac Kook, the first Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi of Mandatory Palestine, thought that this fire is mirrored spiritually in the heart of every Jew.

A new offering is also described: the zevach al-todah, or thanksgiving offering. After giving the priests a share, this offering was eaten with family and friends. Our sages tell us that this offering was required from those who survived dangerous circumstances such as a potentially hazardous journey, dangerous imprisonment, childbirth, or a serious illness. The category of hazardous journey was understood to include a variety of hazardous circumstances. Certainly the survivors of the October 7th massacre would be included. So too would those held hostage by Hamas in Gaza, under the category of dangerous imprisonment.

We know from the accounts of released hostages that the conditions of imprisonment are dangerous: food, medicines, and treatment for injuries withheld or inadequate, as well as beatings and sexual assault. Added to this is the danger of the war raging around them. Some of the hostages have died or been killed in captivity.

Though we no longer have a temple at which sacrifices are offered, there are parallels. In ancient days, priests had a larger role and more responsibility than the general populace. Yet everyone participated according to their means. Even the poorest could bring a meal sacrifice. All could bring wood for the altar. Everyone had a stake in an important collective enterprise.

Today, some soldiers face danger going into combat. Other soldiers perform less dangerous but no less necessary supportive roles, such as logistics. Civilians heal the injured, cook food for the soldiers, house displaced internal refugees, pick crops, or donate money, goods, and time. Jews from abroad have come to Israel to help in a myriad of ways. The whole House of Israel has come together, in ways great and small, each giving what he or she can, in an endeavor of the greatest importance. The esh tamid is still burning in Jewish hearts.

We no longer offer sacrifices of thanksgiving. Today, people who have survived a dangerous or potentially dangerous situation, recite the Birkat HaGomel or “Blessing of the One Who Bestows,” before the congregation during the Torah service. It is a call and response prayer, with the congregation participating along with the survivor. The survivor says:

“Blessed are you, Hashem our G-d, King of the universe, the bestower on the undeserving of goodness, who has bestowed on me everything good.”

And the congregation answers:

“Amen. May the one who bestowed on you everything good [continue to] reward you with everything good.”

As the thanksgiving offering was shared with the community in Temple times, so today this prayer of gratitude is shared, with the community acknowledging the survivor’s brush with mortality and the Source of a good outcome.

Ellen Frankel, CEO of the Jewish Publication Society, says the Birkat HaGomel can have an added function: lessening the burden of survivor guilt. It is common to experience guilt after surviving a dangerous situation that others did not. Many of the survivors of the October 7th massacre and released hostages have expressed such feelings, wondering what they could have done differently to save a friend or family member, why they deserved to live while others didn’t. Many feel they should not eat or enjoy any pleasures while others are in captivity or no longer alive. Frankel posits that hearing the community recite back the prayer confirms that one is, indeed, worthy of the blessing of having survived and deserves good things.

In Temple days, the thanksgiving offering included 40 loaves of bread, 30 unleavened and 10 leavened. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch explained that the leavened loaves represented growth and freedom from constricting danger.

And while other sacrifices had to be consumed in two days and an intervening night, the thanksgiving sacrifice had to be consumed in just a day and a night. Why less time to eat more food? Seforno comments that this encouraged the offeror to invite many to partake of the feast. Thanksgiving was to be shared, and gratitude proclaimed, to and with as many people as possible.

Our sages teach that when Mashiach comes, there will no longer need to be offerings of atonement, for people will no longer sin. But thanksgiving offerings will remain, because of the supreme importance of gratitude, and because we will be so grateful when the world is perfected.

May the unity of all Israel, each giving what he or she can and feeding a perpetual fire in each other’s hearts, continue. May all the survivors and hostages be freed from captivity of body, mind, and spirit, giving us all cause for thanksgiving. May we find reason to be grateful even in times of adversity, turning captivity to freedom and disaster to growth, and sharing our thanksgiving with each other. And may that longed-for age of perfect peace and wholeness, where all brokenness and sorrow are transformed to wholeness and joy, come speedily in our days, amen.

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Shemini – The Fire Next Time

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Vayikra – How We Connect to G-d Matters

The last few portions of the book of Exodus dealt with constructing the mishkan. They dictate where the children of Israel could encounter Hashem. The next book, Leviticus, describes the how of encountering Hashem. Leviticus’ first portion, Vayikra, opens with the word Vayikra, “And He called…” Whereas previously Hashem just spoke to Moses (vaydaber Adonai el Mosheh lemor is repeated dozens of times in the Torah), He now calls to him before speaking instruction—something done only one other time, at Sinai—and speaks to him inside the mishkan. “And he called to Moses and the Lord spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting, saying…” (Leviticus 1:1) A call is more than everyday speech. It is a summons to pay attention. What is about to be said, and where it is being said, are important.

And then the Torah goes into long, detailed descriptions of how to slaughter, skin, dissect, and roast animals on an open fire, along with sprinkling or pouring their blood in various places. Was this really what Hashem felt was so important and holy that He called to Moses from their shared sacred space? Animal sacrifice?

Modern humans cannot relate to animal sacrifice as a way to connect with G-d. Moreover, it seems primitive, even barbaric. But it is an improvement over what went before. Human sacrifice dates back at least 5,000 years as a way to appease the gods and thus avert disaster. There is archaeological evidence of it in Turkey in 3000 BCE. It was performed in Ur, home to the patriarch Abraham, in 2500 BCE.

When Hashem tested Abraham by commanding him to offer up Isaac as a sacrifice, it must have seemed like a normal request from a deity. And the substitution of a ram for Isaac was the first recorded instance of replacing human sacrifice with animal sacrifice.

Hashem made plain that human sacrifice was not pleasing to Him. Instead of appeasement, He wanted humans to feel reverently connected to Him, to express gratitude, and to atone for both mistaken and deliberate infractions that interfered with that pure connection.

So, why didn’t the Torah simply legislate prayer, used both today and in ancient times—King David’s psalms are beautiful examples—to meet these needs?

Tzvi Freeman of Chabad provides an answer while addressing a different question: why didn’t the Torah outlaw slavery? After all, one of the most dramatic events in the Torah is G-d’s liberation of the Jews from slavery.

Freeman points out that the Torah both describes an ideal society and deals with the world as it is. While pointing the way to the former by legislating compassionate treatment of slaves, the Torah does not attempt to upend the entire social and economic order by ending slavery outright. Doing so would have led to chaos, bloodshed, and a return to slavery. (Indeed, Jeremiah chastised the Israelites for returning slaves to servitude after King Zedekiah ordered them freed.) Instead, the Torah strives to inculcate compassion and kindness, which, when practiced and internalized, will eventually lead people to evolve and end practices such as slavery.

So, too, with sacrifices. In a world where it was the accepted order of things to worship with sacrifices, abolition would not have worked. Instead, animal sacrifice was instituted as a substitute. (Child sacrifice is forbidden in a later Torah portion.)

Animal sacrifice was not a violent free-for-all. It was highly regulated. The olah sacrifice was burned in its entirety on the altar; neither priest nor offeror ate or derived benefit from it. In a society where domestic animals were wealth, giving up one’s best specimen was a real sacrifice, showing devotion to Hashem. (People were allowed to bring what they could afford, from a bull to doves to meal offerings, but the sacrifice had to be of stellar quality.)

In contrast, part of the sacrifice of peace/wholeness (zevach sh’lamim) was eaten by the priests along with the offeror and his family and friends in a joyful communal gathering. And sin and guilt sacrifices, meant to bring atonement for mistaken infractions, were burned outside the camp after part had been offered on the altar. People were not to purchase forgiveness from the priest, nor get a reward of food after sinning. Sacrifices also could serve as a purifying mechanism when people came into contact with another person who was ritually impure, or with an impure animal carcass.

The mechanics of animal slaughter were also regulated. The animal’s throat was slit in such a way that unconsciousness was immediate, minimizing suffering, a practice known as shechita and continued in kosher slaughter today. The blood was not eaten but drained from the animal and dashed on the altar or on the curtain veiling the inner Sanctuary. Blood, because its life force belonged to Hashem, was symbolically returned to Him. The fat and other parts of the animal considered choice were not eaten but offered to Hashem.

Not only did animal sacrifice foster reverence and connection. It was also a way to redirect the human impulse for violence.

The Torah recognizes this impulse. From Cain who murdered his brother to Noah’s fellow humans, so evil that G-d decided to destroy them and start over, it has been evident. After the flood, G-d gave humans permission to eat animal flesh in recognition of the man’s violent impulses.

The newly freed slaves from Egypt had no stable foundation, no spiritual discipline. They knew only the impulse to power, exercised over them brutally with the lash. When Moses disappeared for forty days on Sinai, they turned into a rowdy mob. They needed ways to channel aggression into holiness by sacrificing wealth, sharing food, and doing this in a sanctified space and manner. The impulse to violence, as well as the necessity to eat to survive, both primal instincts, were sublimated into life-affirming practices and connection to the Source of holiness.

Human sacrifice took a long time to die out. The ancient Romans outlawed it in 97 BCE. The Kingdom of Korea did so in 502 CE. Britain waited until 893 CE; Iceland, 1000 CE. It was not outlawed in Nepal until 1780. Even as late as the 21st century, there have been isolated instances of human sacrifice.

The Shoah in the 20th century had elements reminiscent of ancient sacrificial systems, with humans burned in furnaces. But there was an element of religious purification as well, however twisted. The Nazis believed that they were ridding humanity of contaminating elements by slaughtering Jews, homosexuals, and others considered defective. They also believed that mercy and kindness were weaknesses, that to become fully human was to not only acknowledge the impulse to exert power that afflicts all human beings, but to allow it free rein in the ultimate exercises of power: dominating, hurting, and killing other humans. They elevated slaughter to praiseworthy religious acts.

And then came October 7th. It seems undeniable that there was a distorted religious impulse behind the mass slaughter. One killer called his parents in Gaza, exclaiming excitedly, “Look how many I killed with my own hands! Your son killed Jews!” And his father responded, “May Allah protect you.” His mother said, “May Allah bless you.” The murderer claimed that he was under the protection of Allah. His siblings also got on the phone. The sacrifice was shared, vicariously, with the family. Like the Nazis, they regarded killing Jews as religious and praiseworthy.

In other respects, the slaughter of the 7th resembled what we read in Torah—but in a twisted mirror image. Piles of human beings were burnt to the point where nothing but ash was left, reminiscent of the olah—except the olah was slaughtered first, and some on October 7th were burnt alive. There seems no rational reason to have done so. It was as if a primitive impulse was at work. In a video filmed by the killers, one sees someone attempting to decapitate a Thai worker with a hoe. (Note: the link is not to the video, which has been removed from X, but to an article describing it.) This was not the quick, painless slaughter of shechita. And while sacrificial animals were only cut up after they were killed, victims on October 7th had body parts chopped off while they were still alive.

And so taking a life, even an animal life, must have guard rails around it, lest we become beasts ourselves. The killers of October 7th breached every boundary and did it while yelling Allahu akbar, “G-d is great.” In a frenzy, they offered human sacrifices to their conception of G-d. A more distorted perversion of holy connection to the divine is hard to imagine. The Torah’s boundaries around animal sacrifice sanctified life by channeling the impulse to violence and elevating it through sacrificing and sharing one’s wealth. The October 7th murderers desecrated life and elevated killing, offering it as a gift to their Lord. Instead of holiness, debauched evil reigned. Human sacrifice returned with a vengeance on October 7th.

The impulse to connect to One infinitely greater than we are is also innate to humans. But how we do it matters greatly. Do we acknowledge that greater power and serve it with reverence? Do we transform our baser instincts into something holy? Or do we give free rein to them, attempting to become gods ourselves, with the power of life and death over others?

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Pekudei – Building and Encountering Goodness

Pekudei is the final portion in the book of Exodus. This book started with a people sorely oppressed and enslaved, its male babies targeted for death. It climaxed with the forming of a covenantal relationship between G-d and the children of Israel at Sinai, given in clouds of fire and smoke. The experience was so intense that the people could not bear it and begged Moses to be their intermediary. Yet when he ascended the mountain to commune with G-d, the people panicked and built an idol.

Pekudei ends with the people building the mishkan, a structure where Hashem will dwell among them. He will no longer be distant, nor will He be overwhelming. He will constrain Himself to the mishkan and be intimate with His people. The mishkan is also called an ohel mo’ed, a tent of meeting. Here the people will encounter G-d.

With the Golden Calf, the people broke the commandment given on Sinai not to worship anything other than Hashem. After that incident, they were punished by both Moses and G-d. But now, as if to make up for the sin of the Golden Calf, they follow G-d’s instructions for building the mishkan and its contents to the letter, thus showing true repentance.. The text repeatedly says ca’asher tzivah Hashem et Mosheh, “as Hashem commanded Moses.” (Moses had passed these commands on to the people in the previous portion, Vayakhel.) By obeying His directions, and through their labors, they both show desire and make an effort to encounter G-d. Because of this, Moses blesses them. (Exodus 39.43)

We have no Golden Calves today. But we have many idols. Popular celebrities, social media “influencers,” and politicians are frequently worshiped by their followers. Their every pronouncement is hung on as if it were revealed truth.

Ideologies, too, can be idols. How do we know when an ideology is an idol and not a strong belief? After all, aren’t human and animal rights, or the environment, worthy causes that are in line with Torah instruction?

When you are willing to murder for your ideology, it is a safe assumption that you have lost your connection to G-d. Similarly, stealing, kidnapping, and polyamory (committing adultery) are evidence that one’s belief system has nothing to do with G-d or His commandments. Communism and Nazism are idolatries that desecrate the name of G-d by denying His existence and persecuting his followers. Radical Islamism such as practiced by Hamas and Al Qaeda claim that He commands atrocities, and also desecrate G-d’s name. It is impossible for most of us to imagine what people encounter when they do such things, but it is not Hashem. How do we know? As Rabbi Dennis Prager writes in The Rational Bible: Exodus, G-d’s essence is goodness. When Moses begs to behold G-d’s presence, He replies, “I shall cause to pass all my goodness before your face.” (Exodus 33.19)

Encountering G-d in a sacred space is a remedy for idolatry. But the space must be sacred, and it must be G-d who is encountered. It is made sacred by putting aside the anger and fear that drives people to construct Golden Calves, and instead humbly and willingly doing the honest work involved in meeting G-d. And if G-d’s essence is goodness, it follows that one can only encounter Him while doing good.

Since the return of Jews to their land, they have sweated and labored to build it up. They did not take the land by force, but purchased it, bit by bit, clearing land and draining swamps, planting fruits and vegetables, building homes and kibbutzim, moshavim and cities, and creating loving families. Through multiple wars they did not initiate, they persisted in goodness. Israel has seen a flowering of Jewish culture, music, writing, Torah learning, and good deeds. Reading the stories of those murdered on and after October 7th, one is overcome by the radiant goodness of not only the victims—countless tales of volunteering and helping those in need while they lived, sacrificing themselves to save others on the day of their deaths—but also their families.

The girlfriend of a soldier who was killed battling terrorists says: “[He] would want us to act so things will be better here.”

The grandson of a woman murdered at Kibbutz Be’eri imagines, “Savta would say that the only medicine is to smile, to keep creating, loving, and to rebuild.”

From the grandson of a couple murdered in Kibbutz Kfar Aza: “We’ll build our home and families here nonetheless, and continue to build a strong, prosperous and developed country.”

As the early settlers built, so they will continue, building together, creating a home not only for each other, but for the ultimate exemplar of Good.

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Vayikra – How We Connect to G-d Matters

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Vayakhel – A Sabbath Ceasing, A Generous Heart

At the beginning of this week’s Torah portion, Vayakhel, Moses assembles the people and reiterates the prohibition against melachah (“work”) on Shabbat. This prohibition was given in last week’s portion, right after communicating all the instructions for making the mishkan and its contents. Now, before the actual work of constructing the mishkan begins, the prohibition is repeated. Evidently it is important.

Our portion then tells us that Moses directed men and women, those with generous hearts, to offer gifts to Hashem. G-d did not command the people to bring gifts. They were to be free-will offerings. The Torah is filled with commandments—613 in all—and some concern offerings, but here G-d says, If you are willing, give to Me.

The message is: refraining from work on Shabbat and giving with a generous heart are both important and valued by G-d.

Recently, an organization called Kesher Yehudi (Jewish Connection) organized a Shabbat program for the families of hostages. The program brought together mostly secular family members with religious Jewish Israelis. It was a full Shabbat, starting with candle lighting and singing over dinner Friday night, continuing with a Saturday service that included the Acheinu prayer, and finishing with Havdalah Saturday night, followed by more singing. The mother of one hostage noted that it was the first time since October 7th that she had been able to get away from an endless stream of news and social media, and yet she still felt connected. The organizers have promised to stay in touch with the families, so the empowering connection will continue.

Since October 7th, the families of those kidnapped have known no rest. Theirs is an endless cycle of marches, demonstrations, and interviews with whoever will hear them. They have dedicated every waking minute to both public and behind-the-scenes nonstop efforts to get their loved ones released from Hamas dungeons and returned safely home. One group of relatives bypassed official channels to get medicines to the hostages via Egypt—as well as medicine and dialysis machines for Gazan children, a freewill offering if ever there was one, given from generous hearts. It is especially generous because it is unknown if medicines intended for the hostages, whether through this channel or others, have reached them. Recently, the IDF found medications labeled with names of the hostages in a Gaza hospital.

In this dire situation, how can there be time to rest? The Torah gives us two reasons why observance of Shabbat is so important. Even G-d ceased from creating on the seventh day. Six days we labor in partnership with G-d, striving to bring holiness and overcome evil. On Shabbat, we cease being human doings and return to our essence as human beings.

Shabbat is also a time to remember that G-d freed us from slavery when He took us out of Egypt. We are awed and grateful for this gift of freedom, which the hostages eagerly await.

For well over six days—more than 150 days at this writing—the families have labored with all their might to redeem their loved ones from slavery. It may be the most important work that they will ever do. Yet recently they ceased their work for Shabbat. Even in this crisis, they took time to return to their essence and to connect, as our ancestors did in the mishkan, with the Ever-Present One.

On Shabbat, we chant the V’Shamru prayer, which ends by saying: Between me and between the children of Israel it is a sign forever that in six days, Hashem made the heaven and the earth, and on the seventh day he ceased and was refreshed—vayinafash, from the Hebrew nefesh meaning “soul,” so He was “ensouled.”

May the labors of the families, as well as those helping them, whether private citizens or leaders, whether in Israel or abroad, along with the soldiers fighting to free the hostages, bear fruit. May our hearts continue to move us to give freewill offerings, from sharing Shabbat to donating money, food, clothing, supplies, support, whatever is needed. May those who labor be given brief respite to reconnect to the ultimate Redeemer, to be ensouled that they may continue in strength to fight for good. May those enslaved in Gaza, between the land of Israel and the sea, be brought from the darkness of the tunnels and captivity to the light of freedom and redemption. May they be brought home, now, speedily, at a time that draws near.

ACHEINU PRAYER
Our brothers and sisters, all the house of Israel
The ones given over to trouble and captivity
The ones that are between the sea and the dry land
May the Ever-Present One have mercy, have mercy on them
And bring them out from trouble to freedom
From darkness to light, from bondage to redemption
Now, speedily, and at a time that draws near.

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Pekudei – Building and Encountering Goodness

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Ki Tisa – First the Idol, Then the Plague

In this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tisa, we read of the well-known incident of the golden calf. The people, anxious because of Moses’ long absence, demand that Aaron make a god to go before them; this, despite having just experienced the miracles of the Reed Sea and Mount Sinai.

Why? The Torah says, Vayar ha-am ki voshesh Moshe, “the people saw that Moses was delayed…” (Exodus 32:1)

A member of my Torah study group, using the Everett Fox translation of the Five Books of Moses, noted that Fox’s translation is “the people saw that Moses was shamefully late”; voshesh means not only delayed but to act shamefully. My study partner pointed out that newly freed slaves, relying on this powerful leader who channeled G-d’s miracles and freed them, would experience extreme anxiety at his absence. Moreover, they would be angry, hence their characterization of his long absence as being shamefully late.

Perhaps they were also ashamed of themselves, of their fear and dependency. It is a normal human characteristic to project shame and other unpleasant emotions onto other people.

The people then strip themselves of the gold earrings the Egyptians gave them to hasten their departure after the deaths of all Egyptian firstborn. Gold jewelry makes the wearer feel beautiful and dignified, but these people are feeling neither beautiful nor dignified. When Aaron casts a golden calf from the earrings, they declare, “This is your god, Israel, who brought you up from the land of Egypt!” (Exodus 32:8)

G-d then directs Moses to hurry back to them, “for your people have wrought ruin” (Fox) or “become corrupt” (Artscroll, Exodus 32:7). These are two translations of the Hebrew text, which reads, ki shikhet amkha. But the literal translation is, “for your people has destroyed.” Destroyed what?

On Mount Sinai, they were told, “I am Hashem your G-d…There shall not be unto you other gods…” (Exodus 20:2-3) This is the first of the Ten Commandments given on the mountain.

Sometimes referred to as the Mosaic Covenant, the Ten Commandments establish a covenant between G-d and the children of Israel. He alone will be their G-d, and they will be his people, beloved and protected. By worshiping a cast image and calling it a god, the people have destroyed the basis of this covenant. Because of this, G-d sends a plague upon the people (Exodus 32:35).

Palestinian intellectuals have said that Gaza has become a symbol of Palestinian shame. Was Hamas projecting shame and rage onto Israel on October 7th? Certainly that rage was on full display that day. And the rapes and mutilations were an ugly displacement of shame onto the victims.

Hamas claims to follow Allah, but perhaps its members are actually following a “god” of their own creation. A golden calf. This god demands that Jews and Christians be killed or subjugated, and that any land that once was ruled by Muslims belongs to them in perpetuity and can never be ceded to non-Muslims. Thus their refusal of a two-state solution, a Jewish and Palestinian state side by side. Thus their murder-fest on October 7th, with the promise of more to come. Thus their total unconcern with the deaths of their fellow Muslims in Israel’s response.

“Jihad is its path and death for the sake of Allah is the loftiest of its wishes,” reads the Slogan of the Islamic Resistance Movement in the 1988 Hamas Charter. The charter goes on to say: “The Day of Judgement will not come about until Moslems fight the Jews, when the Jew will hide behind stones and trees. The stones and trees will say O Moslems, O Abdullah, there is a Jew behind me, come and kill him.”

On October 7th, Jews hid behind stones and trees, in bomb shelters and safe rooms, in portable toilets and sewage pipes. And the Hamas murderers came and killed them.

They killed not only Jews, but also foreign workers who were Christians or Buddhist or Hindu. They killed 21 Israeli Muslims. They exceeded even their own charter, destroying both people and property.

By this destruction, they brought a plague upon their own people. Almost 30,000 killed (including about 9,000 fighters) and 70,000 injured are the latest numbers from Gaza. Gazan women, children, and elderly sleep in tents in the open air while Hamas fighters shelter in tunnels they do not permit civilians to enter. Civilians fight each other for whatever food Hamas fighters do not confiscate. Hunger and sickness stalk the land. The hospitals are overwhelmed. This is the fruit of Hamas’ golden calf idol.

Jews are not alone in following the siren call of the golden calf. But we are also not alone in returning to the one true G-d. We hope that one day those who follow the idolatry of Hamas do the same and remove the plague from their people, and Israel’s.

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Vayakhel – A Sabbath Ceasing, A Generous Heart

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Tetzaveh – All the Colors Will Bleed Into One

This week’s Torah portion is…colorful.

Tetzaveh continues describing the contents of the portable sanctuary, the mishkan. It also describes the garments that the cohanim, the priests, will wear as they serve in there. These garments will comprise the same three colors used in the screen for the mishkan entrance and the curtain separating the innermost sanctum from the rest of the mishkan: blue, purple, and crimson.

Then the Torah describes the ritual that will inaugurate both the mishkan and the priestly service. This ritual involves putting the blood of sacrificed animals on the altar and the extremities (thumbs, big toes, and earlobes) of the kohanim. This is something foreign and perhaps even repulsive to modern-day people. One possible exception is when friends, usually male, cut themselves and commingle their blood to become “blood brothers.”

So even today, there is a remnant of an ancient mindset that saw blood as both binding and sacred. Perhaps this is because it is so linked with both life and death. Blood carries oxygen and other nutrients throughout our bodies, giving us life. Without blood, we cannot survive. The ancients may not have had our knowledge of bacteria and viruses, cancers and immune systems, but they knew that when you lost enough blood, you died.

Here the cohanim, through sharing sacrificial blood also poured on the altar, are bound in sacred service to Hashem, who will meet the children of Israel in the mishkan. What does that have to do with the three colors, blue, purple, and crimson, used in both curtains and priestly clothing?

Blue is the color of blood inside the body. When it leaves the body and is exposed to air, it turns red. Blue is living blood; red is blood leaving the body; if enough of it leaves us, we perish. ZAKA, the Israeli search and rescue organization, collects even the blood of accident and terror victims. It must be buried with the rest of the body, for it will be needed in the resurrection that Judaism believes will happen in days to come.

And purple? Purple results when blue and red are mixed together. When life and death combine. But how can these two opposite states coexist?

Judaism is big on separations and distinctions. At the end of the Sabbath, we remember that G-d distinguishes between the sacred and the mundane, between light and darkness. Many of the ritual laws enforce a separation between life, both real and symbolic, and death. Sex is forbidden during menstruation, for menstruation happens when there is no fertilized egg to become a life, while the purpose of sex is to create life. Cohanim may not handle dead bodies or enter a cemetery, save for a close relative, for the job of a cohen is to sanctify life.

In some mysterious way, for our ancestors, the sacrificial service worked to do this. The blood of sacrificial animals was seen as substituting for our own blood. The blue and crimson remind us of both the separation between death and life, and the fact that the two coexist, often with only a very thin veil between them.

But what about the purple, the blending of crimson and blue?

Judaism, despite its emphasis on separations, is not a dualistic religion. There is not, as in other religions, a power that is good and a power that is evil. Satan is not G-d’s enemy and separated from Him, but a member of his staff, as it were, a prosecuting attorney who has his place in the system, testing the faith of G-d’s followers (see: the Book of Job). Judaism believes that G-d created light and darkness, good and evil. It seems both are needed.

Our sages say that were it not for the evil inclination, no man would build a house, take a wife, beget a family, and engage in work. We need enough ambition and desire for material goods to work for them, but not to steal them. We need enough lust to marry and have children, but not to commit adultery or rape. We need enough anger to fight injustice and protect ourselves and others, but not to murder. We are not to try to eliminate our evil inclinations, but to sublimate them to a good end.

Islamic terrorists have claimed to love death like their enemies love life. Both Hamas and the Palestinian Authority teach their children from a young age that their highest aspiration is martyrdom while murdering Jews. Israelis prize life and celebrate it. They are the first on the scene of a disaster to render aid, even in countries thousands of miles away. They pursue cutting-edge medicine to cure every conceivable illness. They treat everyone in their hospitals. Family members of Ismail Haniyeh, head of Hamas’ political bureau, are currently receiving care in an Israeli hospital.

The divide between Israel and its enemies is stark.

On October 7th, in an explosion of rage, lust, and greed, both Hamas fighters and Gaza civilians looted, raped, kidnapped, and murdered. Red blood in the houses of kibbutzim and the cars of fleeing festival-goers testified to the death and destruction. We know that since then, hostages have died or been killed in captivity. We pray that many still have the blue blood that means life flowing in their veins.

And on October 7th, police officers, soldiers, kibbutz security teams, and ordinary civilians died fighting the terrorists, treating wounded, protecting others. They died that others might live. As in the ancient mishkan sacrifices, their blood substituted for others’ blood.

We want the IDF and our leaders to be angry enough to fight Hamas to utter defeat and to bring home the remaining hostages, but not angry enough to murder civilians, harm them, or loot their belongings. We want to fight for life to the very best of our ability, not for death.

Innocents died on October 7th, and die now in Gaza. The reality Israel must work with is that Hamas is embedded with civilians to an extent unmatched in any other war in history. Because we do not have G-dly powers to miraculously separate the innocent from the guilty, inevitably blue will mix with red. Innocent life will bleed and die. It is a tragedy and it is also part of the universe that G-d created. Maybe some day we will understand why.

For now, we can only accept that despite our best efforts, blue and red will sometimes bleed into each other. We are obligated, to the extent possible, to separate the two, to sanctify life and prevent death where we can. We eagerly wait for olam haba, the world to come, where death will not destroy life, where purple will become part of the sanctification of G-d’s name, a time beyond present understanding.

I have spoke with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of a devil…
I believe in the Kingdom Come
Then all the colors will bleed into one…
—U2, “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”

Israel-Gaza War 5784: Ki Tisa – First the Idol, Then the Plague